


Younger Faces (than our hearts are letting on)

by Truetomorrow



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: A bit on the crack side, Angst, Any triggers/squicks will be posted in chapter notes, Drabbles, Figuring this out a bit, Gen, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, UST, tags and characters will be updated as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truetomorrow/pseuds/Truetomorrow
Summary: Collection of drabbles and ficlets too short to be their own stories; almost all Gradence





	1. Seen Enough of Sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> These will be updated... extremely sporadically. As things get written, and when I remember to post them. Most probably from my tumblr

            It's enough to be here. Enough for the two of them to be together, alone and apart from the rest of the world.

            The car is nearly silent as they make their way through the night, gliding over the silent road. The radio is tuned to something low and vaguely Classical, he and Percival communicating in murmurs when they do speak, though for the most part they are content to sit in silence. The topics they bring up are nothing important.

            Or perhaps they are the only important things to talk about. None of it matters with the windows down, the summer breeze cool with the hint of rain on the way.

            Credence steals glances at the man next to him, watching him drive. His hands are confident on the wheel, posture relaxed in a way that makes Credence's heart speed up in appreciation. He looks like he could drive all night, like he and Credence could just _go_ together. Never look back. Leave everything and drive off into the sunset. Glancing out his window again, Credence smiles softly. Drive off into the sunrise, maybe.

            Their lives have seen enough sunsets—maybe it's time for a new dawn.

            This time when he glances at Percival, he meets his eyes, and though he blushes, he doesn't look away, only smiling at the older man before Percival turns his attention back to the road. But he is smiling now too, lips gently curled in a way that Credence wishes he could watch forever.

            The car slows and they turn onto country roads now, winding stretches where the only lights come from the moon and the car's headlights.

            Credence squints up and gasps in excitement—this far from the city, he can see stars. He leans his head closer to the window, nearly leaning out to get a better view of the stars.

            The night sky is all but on fire with them, and Credence can't tear his eyes away, full of awe at the sight.

            In this moment, he thinks he understands religion. The belief in something _greater_. In something eternal and precious beyond comprehension.

            Without realizing it, Credence has reached up to grab one of Percival's hands, and Percival adjusts so they can lock their fingers together. The warmth from the contact relaxes Credence.

            In this moment, there are no sunsets, no sunrises. There is only now, only Percival.

            In this moment, they are eternal.


	2. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not fluff?

Credence is a wisp. Less than a thought. As a man, he has ceased to exist.

In all the stories, no one talked about the danger of flying too low.

He had been warned away from greatness, from getting too close to the sun. But the wet of the waves has weighed him down; dragged him in to drown—the pain of the belt, the terror of the spark, the magic that warped into shadows—he flew too far from the light.

Corrupted. Powerful.

“I don’t think I want to, Mr. Graves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com)


	3. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character study of Credence, a bit. Once again, not fluff. Angst

Why didn't he run?

The question, when it is asked in words, is asked kindly. Gently. Prefaced with explanations as if he was a child. Even as an adult, he had stayed. Stayed where, out of all of the orphans, Ma beat him the worst of all, and for no reason he could understand.

He was not uneducated, he could have left. He could have found a job somewhere.

Anywhere.

But he stayed.

Credence tries to explain it to Miss Tina, and when she finally understands her eyes flash with the same anger as Queenie's had at the start of the conversation.

Lips tight with fury, and magic all but crackling at her fingertips, Miss Tina had stared at her sister in shock at her reaction to Credence shifting in on himself when he made a mistake.

He could watch her face and follow the trail of her conclusions. All of her realizations at his thoughts. He never apologized. He made himself small, unobtrusive, silent. Agreed to whatever he had done wrong. But he never apologized.

His Ma had apologized.

That had been the worst, Credence thought. The beatings he could stand. The screams of abuse he could bear. The half-rations he could reason away.

But the apologies. Credence shivered, and grabs Queenie's hand thankfully when she instinctively reaches out to him.

He knows better than to flinch away (flinching only made it worse, made Ma angrier, made her more determined to beat the sin from him. He was an ungrateful child and should accept anything she deigned to provide), and nowadays he was rewarded by kind touches rather than punished with beatings.

He can't hide the wince the first time Miss Tina pulls him in and apologizes for everything he has been through.

Before he can gather himself, he hears a different voice—different voice, different time, different embrace— _Credence I'm sorry but this is for your own good Credence forgive me we must save your soul you are wicked wicked wicked I am sorry_.

He sobs, and Queenie joins her sister at Credence's side. Instead of the expected pity, Credence finds anger in her eyes, and he is confused.

Why is she angry? She is so full of light and life, it is a crime to see the fury building and cresting in her face.

What is the use in anger?

Credence has long been numb.

He accepts his fate. He accepts the apologies. His mother never wanted to hurt him, she only wanted to help him, and beating the evil out was the only way she knew how. It is his fault. His fault for making her hurt him, for not being better, his fault that she is dead.

Somewhere, a glass explodes, and Miss Tina stares at her sister. Queenie is alive with rage, sparks once more arcing off of her arms and twining in her hair. She looks as beautiful as she does terrifying, and finally she has Credence's full attention.

"None of this. Honey, do you hear me? None. Of this. Is your fault. That woman did not beat you because she loved you."

Dimly, Credence hears a shocked "Queenie!" because they do not talk about it. It is an accepted fact that Credence was beaten, but he is free now. He is safe. There is no point in dredging up unhappy memories in the present.

But now Queenie is.

Queenie is luminescent in her vengeance, and Credence feels the first stirrings of his own anger.

Queenie is good and pure and whole. If she can be angry. If she can be angry for _Credence_...

Credence looks into the mirror to the left of Tina's head and sees his reflection. Hair still choppy but growing out. Face less hollow but bones still too sharp. He is pale, but there is a light awakening in his eyes. A flush building on his cheeks.

And, for the first time that he can remember, he is angry.

Angry for everything he was denied, angry for the pain, angry for the lies, angry for the person he could have been. Angry that he never knew his own hair had waves. He squeezes his eyes shut, face and body tight with tension.

When his eyes open again, they remain brown. No smoke escapes his body. He realizes he is clinging to Queenie, though he doesn’t remember her approaching to hold him.

She strokes his back and hums to him, and he sobs into her neck.

Tina brings him a damp cloth for his face when he finally pulls away from Queenie, and he smiles at her as she takes it. Her eyes are red, but her face is determined, and she smiles back as she strokes hair away from his forehead.

He is far from healed, but now he can _breathe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com)


	4. Gradence GO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [This post on tumblr](https://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com/post/162992123114/setheverman-theres-a-zubat-in-put-the-gun-down): _there’s a zubat in- put the gun down- there’s a zubat in your kitchen and your window was open so_
> 
> Something I tried for far too long to make into an actual fic, but so far no luck.

            "There's a zubat in—put the gun down—there's a zubat in your kitchen and your window was open so..."

            The voice is unrepentant and rambling, and Percival groans as he flips on the light switch. "Ow! Hey! Warn a guy! I didn't know you even had a gun, anyway?" Credence makes his way to stand in the doorway to the dining room. "Aha! There you are."

            He's focused on his phone, and it looks like he's drawing circles on the screen before swiping up, a symphony of music notes played out with a series of annoyed grunts until he is apparently successful and lets out a soft whoop and grins at Percival.

            Relaxing his face because the glare he's worked up—the glare that fits the situation very well, thank you very much—is having absolutely no effect, Percival tosses the object in his hand onto the table between them, grinning when Credence jumps and curses, staring in horror at Percival.

            "You could have shot—" he breaks off when he sees what the "gun" actually was, and laughs, moving closer to examine the miniature replica of the Statue of Liberty.

            Percival plops down into a chair with a huff that he knows Credence is likely to ignore, and raises an eyebrow. "Credence. You realize it is one in the morning. Correct?"

            Rolling his eyes, Credence says, "of course, that's why I didn't knock or ring the bell. I knew you’d be asleep and didn't want to wake you."

            He's looking at Percival as if that makes perfect sense, and Percival growls, rubbing hands over his face. "Credence..."

            "Look, if you would just give me a key..."

            "You need a key to my house to keep you from _breaking in_ to _my_ house at one in the morning to... catch a pokemon?" This, at least, finally gives Credence pause.

            "Well. Okay, sure, when you put it like that... Hey, but since I'm here and it's late, can I crash?"

            Percival doesn't bother to respond, except to wave his hand toward the stairs. It's not like Credence lives all that far away, but it's no problem letting him stay. It's better than having him walk back across campus at one in the morning. Plus, Percival thinks as he shuts—and locks—the kitchen window, it's not the worst thing in the world to wake up and make breakfast and coffee to share with Credence.

            Shutting off the lights again, Percival makes his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He can hear Credence humming to himself as water runs in the guest bathroom, and he can't hold back a smile as he calls a soft "Goodnight" and hears a garbled "'nigh'!" as Credence pokes his head out, toothbrush in hand, white froth spilling over his bottom lip as he tries to reply.

            He squeaks and dashes back into the bathroom to rinse, and Percival closes his eyes for a moment—where he absolutely does not imagine how the younger man would look with his lips painted with other white fluid.

            Percival doesn't slam his door, but he makes sure it clicks firmly shut before he takes a deep breath and climbs back into bed. At least he doesn't have any classes the next morning, and if he remembers correctly, neither does Credence.

            A few minutes later, the light that had been filtering under his door goes out, and seconds after that he hears the soft click of the door to the guest room closing. Exasperated, Percival chuckles and curls onto his side, arms wrapped around a pillow. He falls back asleep moments later, planning what breakfast to make in the morning. Blueberry waffles are Credence’s favorite, but Percival is pretty sure he only has chocolate chips left, so maybe pancakes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com)


	5. These Vagabond Shoes Are Longing to Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote most of this when I was in my "omg cousins getting together is taboo and also so romantic" phase. I'm cringing a little bit just thinking about it, but um. Not enough to _not_ Gradence it and add on more stuff. So uh. Yeah. Here's a thing because I am STRUGGLING with writing anything new.

Branches wave wildly over his bent head as he rides. His hair and cloak don't exactly stream behind him, and he's not pursued by masked men, but deep in his bones he still feels the storybook thrill of the forest at night.

Tingles shiver over his arms and he glances negligently behind him an instant before his horse rears up, whinnying.

He just manages to stay on as the horse paws at the ground nervously. Credence grasps the reigns tightly to his chest and glances around darkly. Nothing seems to be amiss, but he is not naïve enough to be completely trusting of the potential dangers in the world.

He slips a small dagger from the pouch around his waist and hops to the ground. Examining his horse's front hooves, he discovers a small thorn in the left one. His heart slowing down its pace, he rationalizes that the thorn caused the horse's discomfort. Yet, when he is grabbed around the waist by a pair of strong arms, somehow he isn't surprised.

The whisper in his ear is dark and seductive. The body behind his radiates heat and he tries not to shiver too obviously.

Credence knows what he looks like from a distance, is sure the robber will think him a woman, and the surprise when the truth is discovered should be enough for him to escape. If he is lucky. He sucks in a breath, staying as still as possible. He needs to be ready.

His ornate dagger is slipped from his fingers and a harsh gasp sounds in his ear as the blade catches the moonlight. The tight grasp on his waist slackens off, but before he can even think to slip away, he is turned around to face his captor.

At the dark, disheveled hair and the hot, bright eyes, he is surprised. The man’s face appears hard but the lines are fine and speak of aristocracy.

Credence gazes up at him wordlessly as the demands come that he tell this stranger where he found the dagger.

Curious at the interest, trying to get a better look at the man’s face in the darkness, he tells him that it has been in his family for generations, and belonged to a cousin who had run away when Credence was no more than a child. He grunts as he is turned back around, unable to see the man’s face anymore, trying to breathe steadily as the silence drags on and he remains trapped and weaponless.

Then, the stranger breathes Credence's name into his ear and he shivers. His voice is quiet, so dark, so seductive, and Credence bites his lip. He _knows_ that voice. The dagger is slipped back into his pouch and fingers trail over his hips and stomach.

"Little cousin..." Credence sighs and presses back against the hard, lithe, body of his cousin. Impossibly, it really is him.

" _Percival_. Why did you leave?" He frowns and tries to turn around to face him again but he holds Credence still.

Stroking Credence’s side, he replies, "you were so young. My favorite little cousin, but it wasn’t right. Couldn’t be."

Credence grows angry, shaking his head. "You _left_ me! I loved you, but you left! So why?!"

Percival growls and presses against Credence's back, and Credence squirms as he feels the hard bulge against his ass and the whisper against his ear, "you loved me. I know. I loved you too. But not in the same way, my sweet boy. I was older. You're my cousin. I had to protect you." Percival had felt the same way about him that he did for Percival? And he somehow felt the same, even now, after so many years apart?

At 23, he understands now what he hadn't before, understands how wrong it is to feel this way about Percival, knows he should have... but no. He knows he needs him, still.

Credence decides he will play dumb and lure Percival in. It's selfish, but they both want it. Both need it. Now that he's touched Percival again, _been touched_ by Percival again, he knows he will never leave again, if he has any say.

Shifting slightly in his cousin's grip, Credence looks again into Percival's face.

Yes, he sees it, now he knows what to look for in the moonlight; his cousin's face, a decade older, but still dear, still handsome.

He notices Percival examining his face just as carefully, and he smiles. "I missed you. Percival, all of these years... I've been so worried. Never a word to your parents, to anyone. Where have you been?"

Percival frowns and strokes a hand through Credence's long hair, trailing it down his jaw to rest there, letting it cup at the bones, pinky stroking lightly over the tender flesh. Credence holds back a shiver, worried it will make Percival pull away.

"I had to leave. Had to go far away, but... It's been so long. I thought—I had thought that now..." Percival's thumb presses against Credence's bottom lip, and Credence opens to it, keeping his eyes locked to Percival's, unblinking.

Daringly, he flicks his tongue over the tip of the thumb as he sucks it into his mouth, and Percival closes his eyes on a groan. But he doesn't pull away.

A moment later, he opens his eyes again, gaze hot and making Credence's mouth part slightly in shock at the jolt of heat that shoots through him, even as Percival slips his thumb in further.

It's hard to tell in the moonlight, but his eyes look like they are all pupil, and Credence runs his tongue over Percival's thumb again as his cousin removes it from Credence's mouth. He whines slightly at the loss, but Percival tugs him to press flush against the length of his body and Credence temporarily forgets why he could have ever been upset.

“My sweet cousin…” Credence drapes himself over every part of Percival he can reach, eyes liquid and heavy.

“Percival… please? Don’t leave me alone again. Especially not now.”

Credence can see the struggle playing out across Percival’s face, can feel the tension in every line of his body as he fights against every instinct he has to _protect_ Credence, to keep him far away from Percival. But there is nothing in Percival that Credence needs protection from, and Credence will prove that to him every day for the rest of their lives, if he has to. And if the last ten years had been anything to go by, it may well take that long.

So much for playing dumb, Credence thinks. But they both deserve better; deserve to go into this with their eyes wide open.

Credence is no longer a child, and even if his feelings haven’t changed since he was too young to fully understand, he _knows_ now. He knows and he _will_ fight to keep Percival this time.

Their eyes lock and Credence can tell Percival has made a decision, even before he lowers his head to press their lips together. Clinging to Percival in an effort to keep the contact, Credence eventually loosens his hold enough for Percival to pull back, allowing them to breathe.

Percival smiles.


	6. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence Barebone/Percival Graves. Talk of non-con; consensual non-con. 
> 
> Credence can't escape the terror of becoming intimate with Percival, his mother's voice ringing in his ears any time they try. He thinks there is one way Percival might be able to help him overcome this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this... did not come out like I expected? idk how to feel about it, really, but it's been a half-finished thing in my notes for MONTHS, so.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"You could make me." 

The words, mouthed along Graves's collarbone as Credence buries his face into the older man's neck, make Graves freeze. Nearly silent as the words are, the sensation of warm lips and damp breath puffing out, as well as the thought of holding Credence completely at his mercy, of _making_ him, causes shivers.

Graves forces himself to ignore both the sensations and the desire, continuing to loosely hold Credence, running one hand through his curls. It takes everything Graves has to only allow himself a soft press of lips to Credence’s hair.

Pretending he hasn't heard.

Pretending he doesn’t want the same.

Credence pulls back then, and looks him square in the eye. "I want to. I just... I can't. But you could make me." Graves rests his forehead against Credence's with a groan. "Please."

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t…” Graves doesn’t care if they never have sex—or if it takes years to build up to it. “I won’t take that from you.”

Credence growls and pulls back from Graves enough to meet his gaze head-on. “I am _asking_ you to fuck me, Percival. The choice is mine; I just need... I can’t stop _her_ voice when— Please.”

Percival looks at Credence, really looks, before pressing their foreheads together. He sucks in a steadying breath before straightening and hardening his expression.

“Strip, then get on the bed.” He shifts, feeling heat coil through his belly, making sure Credence can see his eyes, “don’t make me come after you.”

Biting his lip, Credence begins tugging off his clothes—this, at least, is familiar territory. Panting slightly, he removes his tie and hands it to Graves. Then he bolts, running naked through the house.

Tie still clutched in his hand, Graves smirks before giving chase.


	7. When in Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence Barebone/Percival Graves. Cracky, humor, smut.
> 
> Graves concedes that not _everything_ Credence has learned about British culture is a waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this has been in my drafts since _at least_ May.... I need to accept it's never gonna be a fic.

Something feels different about his grip, Percival realizes. Not bad, it still feels amazing, but it is enough to make Percy glance down and force himself to focus on something beyond the slick pink stretch of lips. 

Credence has his pinky finger sticking out, his other fingers closed in a fist as usual but that one nail from the extended digit scratching in a slightly different spot against Percival's stomach every stroke makes him shiver each time the contact is made.

"...Credence..." the younger man meets his eyes, expression unreadable at this angle. "Did you–yes!–did you learn anything–ah!–anything interesting today?" 

 Credence withdraws in a slow slide that makes Percy buck up in an uncontrollable attempt to keep the heat, the damp perfection, just a tiny bit longer. The boy is grinning up at him as he places a tender kiss on the head of Percival's cock, expression innocent except for the swollen red lips and glitter in his sharp eyes. 

 "Funny you should mention it..." his hand takes over pumping the length of Percival's cock, thumb and three fingers wrapped in his usual tight grip. "We had tea today, and Newt taught us how to drink in the proper British way." 

 A sly smile, eyes amused and slitted as he dips the tip of his tongue into Percy's slit, damp with his own precome now more than saliva, and Percy whines. "He wasn't sure, himself, when it was most appropriate, but informed us 'when in doubt, pinky out.'"

 Percival chuckles breathlessly, cradling Credence's face fondly. "What did I do to deserve you, my sweet absurd little love?" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com)


End file.
